Don't worry, I'm older than I look.

Conspiring to commit a felony

Valancy Jane: So there’s this guy who seems to think that our office is the office of a X-ray clinic.
And he needs an x-ray before he can see a specialist.

Mysterious Coworker: I love when that happens.

Valancy Jane: And he has trouble believing that we are not that office.
I keep referring him back to his doctor.
But I swear, if he calls one more time…..I’m going to give him an appointment.

Mysterious Coworker: Heh.
You should get an invoice together as well.

Valancy Jane: Hahahaha!

Mysterious Coworker: Have him lie on one of those testing tables in that you were standing on.
Run a scanner-looking device over him.
Hand him a printout of an xray that you downloaded off the internet.

Valancy Jane: I’ll hook him up to a few machines, and tell him I’ll need a complete sexual history.
“And remember, sir. If at any point during the next test you become too frightened to continue, just yell for me over the sound of the rotors, and I’ll have you out of the rigging in no time.
But some brief safety questions, first. Have you ever shown more than the usual level of sensitivity to plutonium?”

Mysterious Coworker: Heh.

Valancy Jane: We’ll have him drink a gallon of SunnyD first, tell him it’s dye for the x-ray.

Mysterious Coworker: That will be amusing.

Valancy Jane: “Please place these over your nipples, sir, it’s a very powerful x-ray and we’d hate to burn you.”
And then I’ll just stand over him and take pictures with my iPhone.

Mysterious Coworker: *click*

Valancy Jane: Then I’ll write to his doctor and say, “I found out what’s wrong with your patient. He’s overly nervous.”